


The Divine Tendrils of the Blessed Eternal

by Donthavesexwithsam



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Other, Please Forgive me, crackfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-12 10:03:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5662288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Donthavesexwithsam/pseuds/Donthavesexwithsam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eiffel finds the Hephaestus very lonely. Luckily specimen 34 is there to keep him company.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Divine Tendrils of the Blessed Eternal

**Author's Note:**

> This is what happens after a game of Card against humanity with the Wolf 359 deck. This is quite possibly the worst thing I've ever written, but honestly it was too much fun to write this. Sorry not sorry. Okay a little sorry. Yeah I'm a lot sorry. This is terrible.

It was really clammy in Eiffel’s room, like, you’ve-spend-the-entire-day-in-bed-clammy. He’d already taken his one-size-fits-all-except-your-fat-ass Goddard issued jumpsuit off him and changed into shorts and a tank top (Minkowski was probably going to kick his ass about that one, but what else is new?).

He took one last trip down to the kitchen (if you could call it a kitchen- it was mostly Hilbert’s homemade coffee machine and drawers and drawers filled with protein packs) to get some crackers and tea before going to bed.

Tea was the only seaweed thing that wasn’t absolutely disgusting. Since tea is already leaf water, and seaweed is mostly leaves, Hilbert only had to add some flavor.

Sleeping in space was something Eiffel would never get used to. Strapping himself to the bed, which was placed vertically against the wall to save space. He  _ knows _ there’s no up and down in space, but really- on a station as big as the Hephaestus, they could  _ at least _ have given a horizontal bed for mental ease and stuff. He crumbled up the the wrapper and gave it a swing in the general direction of where he left most trash. There was a quite orderly ‘stack’ of them, stagnantly floating in a corner. Hera bugged him a lot about cleaning his room, but Minkowski was never in here, so why would he?

He finished strapping himself down and pulled up the last zipper, trying to relax.

Hours later, he awoke with a start. There was something wrapping itself around his ankle.

“H-hera?” he muttered. No response.

The… tendril? was soft and dry, if a little rubbery, creeping it’s way up his leg.

Eiffel tried to sit up, as far as his straps allowed him. “S-scary plant-monster?”

There was a dry growl from the air vents, while more and more tendrils added on his slightly damp skin. At first Eiffel was afraid that the plant monster was going to choke him, or dismember him, or drag him into the air vents and eat him. But before he had time to panic, he felt that the plant monster was doing something entirely different.

It was caressing him, softly dragging its tendrils across his legs, chest, face and groin. Eiffel had been caressed and cuddled before, but not by someone with a possible infinite amount of arms. He made a pleasured growl that was not  _ entirely _ voluntary. The plant monster stiffened.

“No, no,” he uttered, quickly, “Please, go on. Plant monster, take my carbon based, uncomfortably liquid body!”

Another approving growl came from the air vents.

“If Minkowski ever finds out about this,” Eiffel mumbled, bucking involuntarily when one tendril tugged on the edges of his boxers. “She’s going to use the entire contents of the ammunition closet.”

There was too much to take it all in at once. The plant monster was everywhere, and they seemed to know what they were doing. The tendrils tickled softly around his nipples, the soft of his jaw, the inside of his legs, the base of his cock.

He moaned softly, and the plant monster rewarded him with a soft stroke. He was so close… this was definitely going on his secret hard drive full of uncomfortably graphic BSDM art.

“EIFFEL!” in the distance.

Eiffel would’ve lunged forward, if he hadn’t been tied to the bed. He looked around him, but there was no sign of the plant monster. His hair was stuck to his face, his shirt drenched in sweat.

“EIFFEL!” Again. He now heard it was Minkowski.

“Yes, Commander?” he scraped his throat.

“CAN YOU STOP USING THREE TOWELS EVERY TIME YOU SHOWER?”

Definitely Minkowski.

“But I need them!” Eiffel explained. “One for my hair, one for…”

“I don’t care! And get your lazy ass out of bed!”

“Sir yes Sir,” Eiffel sighed.

He slowly unstrapped himself, looking at the air vent.

That was most definitely the weirdest fever dream he  _ ever _ had.


End file.
